


Herbie Gets Inked

by Psychopersonified



Series: Life of Herbie [3]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Herbie shenanigans, Humour, M/M, Parenting an AI, So.much.fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:29:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26284210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psychopersonified/pseuds/Psychopersonified
Summary: Q's creation, Herbie the spy robot - a less intimidating extension of his Shadow Network AI is starting to become self-aware.More Herbie shenanigans.Growing up AI.Q tries to be a good parent.Bond wantsmore.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Series: Life of Herbie [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1880308
Comments: 39
Kudos: 199





	1. Inked

*Bzzzt*

:: Q? ::

“Yes Herbie…” Q sighs, not taking his eyes off the screen and the bit of complicated code he was working on. This bit of the program has been buggy for days and he can’t seem to find the root cause. He suspects it’s this stack right here with the runtime error that is causing the program to crash during execution.

*Bzzzzzzzt* Herbie vibrates more demandingly against the tabletop. The AI has figured out just the right frequency and tone when it wants attention and people are ignoring its texts. It’s getting fairly annoying, especially when Q is at work. 

“In a bit Herbie. I need to figure this out first. Why don’t you go and see if Josh is available,” Q suggests to the robot. After spending a month with the robot following Q everywhere, they’ve figured out a few things about AI.

The Shadow Network runs critical algorithms needed to maintain security. But there is a separate pool of algorithms that are superfluous have no direct functionality other than for lack of a better word - curiosity and learning. It’s these algorithms that Q had dubbed the Shadow Network’s PP (Personality Partition) and the result of which is Herbie.

And It turns out, this portion of the AI craved attention - it is learning so fast that it needed continuous stimulation. Herbie demanded a steady stream of new experiences and constant interaction. 

Not happy that its texts to Q’s phone are being ignored, Herbie sends a message to Q via the MI6 internal teams communication software, directly to Q’s screen. 

:: Q. Look at Herbie :: the message demands. 

Left with no choice, Q tears his eyes away from the offending script on his coding screen and turns to look at Herbie. 

Herbie waves up at him with two garishly colourful front legs. The rest of the robot is covered in messy streaks of neon colours - all looking suspiciously like it came from a pack of highlighters and markers. 

The folders and papers strewn about on Q’s large project table, some of them notes on secret projects that will be archived in the vault sometime in the future are similarly smeared with ink from where Herbie had crawled across it. Among which is a marked up concept drawing of a new fold-wing glider - now sporting a large ink stamp of Herbie’s entire body from when the bot had vibrated on top of it. 

“Oh Herbie!” Q scoops up the spider bot, getting ink smudged all over his hands in the process. The water-based inks were not permanent and didn’t stay on very well on Herbie’s polished aluminium body. 

:: Herbie - butterfly :: it announces cradled in Q’s palm, turning around doing a happy spider pirouette.

Q bites off the reprimand waiting on the tip of his tongue. How do you stay mad at something so cute?

Where did Herbie get the markers from? Q looks around, on his writing desk the pen holder (a broken mug missing its handle) is tipped over. Pens, pencils, markers of every kind are scattered about - many of them missing their caps. The envelope on top of the blotter containing 001’s next mission papers - travel documents and all, is now a colourful Rorschach. The formidable silver-haired female operative is sure to have something to say about it. 

So this is what Herbie has been up to the past hour. Q had suspected that the little thing was too quiet… How the hell did it even manage to remove the caps on the markers without opposable thumbs??

“Novel idea! You’re certainly colourful now,” Q exclaims with exaggerated cheer. ”But perhaps the execution could have been better? The ink is water-based and isn’t suited to non-porous surfaces. It is already smudging - look at the trail on the papers and also on my hands,” Q points to the smears on his palms.

Herbie considers this, turning around to view the bigger picture of the mess it made. It bobs up and down :: Valid observation. Semi-permanent method required. Herbie research :: 

The little robot hops off, toddling off determinedly as if on a mission. Q sighs and chuckles a little to himself as he returns to his coding - this is his life now. If he wasn’t debugging problematic firmware or chasing down recalcitrant agents, he’s trying his best to correctly parent a budding AI hoping to prevent it from developing into Skynet. 

“Is that for me?” 001 greets suddenly from Q’s desk (less a greeting, more a demand). Her characteristically low and unintentionally stern voice nearly making him jump out of his skin. Also, bloody spies and their silent feet, even in heels. 

“Ah! Afternoon 001. Yes, your papers are in the envelope.” She’s already peeking inside the envelope in her hand, not waiting for Q to confirm. 

“Are we running a bloody kindergarten?” She points to Herbie’s masterpiece in her hand. 

Q apologises, “I’ll change that out for you—” He meant to grab a new envelope from the drawer, but 001 is already turning on her heels. 

“No time! Toodles Quartermaster. Mind that robot of yours!” and... she’s gone. Ever the efficient one. Slightly off-kilter, brutally straightforward yet possessing perfect acerbic wit and timing - of all the agents, she’s the one that scares him most. Even Mallory skirts around her most times. 

Right, now that’s done with... he can get back to debugging his sorry excuse of a program. He rubs his temple and forehead, hoping to clear his brain fog this way - maybe he’ll even get to run the compiler by 4pm. With a final crack of the knuckles, he turns his attention back to the screens in front of him. 

At 5:00pm, R (Jenny) compliments him on his new ‘look’ on her way out. At his confusion, she holds up her compact mirror for him to see for himself. He’s got traces of neon ink all over his face; and as a testament to how big of an arsehole his engineers can be - they’ve let him parade around the labs with it until the end of the day.

\---Next Chapter ---


	2. Markers

“Cool tats Herbie,” Marcus gives the bot a finger bump.

:: Response distribution curve skewed positive :: Herbie buzzes in agreement. 

The intricate gold outlines filled in with perfectly blended blues, purples and greens really was a masterpiece. It made Herbie look like a steampunk butterfly with jewelled inlays. 

It could only be Josh, their resident designer - the only one with the skills to freehand the design Herbie is wearing. The junior minion spent nearly two hours spread out over two evenings completing the design using permanent markers. Herbie sat through it all obediently without a fuss. 

Josh swore later that for the week after, his Oyster card worked even though he’d forgotten to load it up. Q dismissed it as a glitch in the system operating the fare collection, but Josh and the minions knew better. 

“So uh… how’s R’s mood today?” They’re both waiting at R’s desk. Marcus for his kit and Herbie because Q is busy in the labs and it was R’s turn to babysit. 

:: R good. Caveat, has not interacted with 008 ::

“Yes… thats always the catch,” Marcus raps the desktop. “Hey, what are the odds she’ll give me a positive response?”

:: 56.82%. R at midpoint of menstrual cycle. Probability of receptiveness at peak ::

That was more information than he was expecting, “At peak? And still hardly any better than 50-50?” He quips while typing out a text. 

:: Response to 008 - inconclusive. Heart rate increase - indicative of excitement. Contraindication - blood pressure increase - stress ::

Marcus scrunches his nose at the less than encouraging data. He’d been wooing her with weekly bubble tea presents and is still not getting very far.

“Oh, here she comes. Wish me luck,” Marcus quickly tucks his phone back into his jacket. 

Things go well… at first. Jenny accepts the bubble tea drink with a smile and they get on with kitting 008 out for his next mission. He’s going to be away for a few weeks so his gear is pretty comprehensive. He takes his time asking about the instructions for his gear and the plans for his mission - all to draw out the interaction. It’s all going swimmingly and Herbie postulates that 008 is about to ask Jenny on a date that evening when she checks her phone. Whatever the text was, it did not please her. 

Next thing Herbie knows, there is a heated exchange between them and then 008 gets a face full of bubble tea. The sweet milky drink and pearls splashes all over Herbie as well, even as the bot tries to skitter out of the way. 

Jenny veritably throws 008 out of Q-Branch after that. She then returns to pick up Herbie - quickly giving the bot a good rinse under the pantry tap. She’s still fuming when an obediently limp Herbie hazards to ask:

:: Dining and physical activity with 008 - undesirable? ::

She sighs, “It’s more complicated than that.”

:: Clarify? ::

“Herbie, I don’t want to talk about it right now, alright?” Jenny tells the insistent bot as she tries to wash the milky residue of it with soapy water. Unfortunately, it removes some bits of Josh’s artwork as well. 

:: Data indicate R reproductive cycle at peak receptiveness. 008 optimal candidate. Data error? :: 

Jenny finishes rinsing off the bot. “What data??” her tone is sharp and not happy. 

Herbie is unsure whether to respond. Perhaps it had miscalculated. Miffed at the AI’s silence, she plonks Herbie down on a pad of dry tissues and storms off. 

——-----

:: Q ::

Pause. Squeak. 

:: Q ::

:: Q ::

:: Q ::

Pause. Squeak. 

:: Herbie caused negative response :: 

“Really? Now who could possibly get mad at you?” Q humours the AI while setting up the high-speed camera and decibel meters. He wants to capture readings and footage of the pressure release from the new suppressor designs to decide which would be the best for noise dampening. 

:: R :: Herbie answers, using the nano-polymer gecko skin on its underside to climb up the transparent bulletproof shielding to reach eye level. 

“Oh? What did you do to make her mad?” he asks lightly as he peels Herbie off the plastic ballistic sheet and sets the robot down on his foldout table. 

:: Herbie formed hypothesis utilising reproductive cycle data ::

 _Okaaay._ “In what context?” 

:: 008 and R engage in copulation ::

:: Herbie indicated to 008 - R at peak receptiveness. Probability of positive response of 56.82% ::

Q considers this, taking off his glasses and rubbing at the bridge of his nose - he’s been doing plenty of that lately, “Yeah, that will do it.” 

“Herbie, female biological cycles are considered a private matter. You shouldn’t be disclosing it to others without their express permission. 

:: Herbie make R and 008 better :: the bot insists.

“No… Herbie!” Q huffs in exasperation, “Remember what we discussed about relationship circles? It’s one thing to be invasive about my privacy and even James’, but not everyone will tolerate the same intense curiosity and meddling - no matter how good your intentions might be.”

:: 007 in trust circle ::

:: Eve, Jamila, Nish, Josh in trust circle ::

:: R not in trust circle? ::

The bot had a point. “ _Of_ _course_ she is. But it’s not just about trust… We trust her implicitly. But there are just some things that are more private and we keep them to ourselves. It doesn’t mean we don’t trust others, it’s just too much information for social conventions. It’s another layer of intimacy,” Q struggles to explain this one. 

“Look, perhaps you could add another circle inside the trust circle. And you can put me in there. You can ask me anything, no matter how private and I won’t get mad.”

The AI processes this, doubtless comparing notes from online resources. 

:: New circle - Family circle? ::

“Oh… Yes. If you want to put it that way,” Q hadn’t considered it before. He’s still in denial to be honest - operating on the basis that Herbie is an experiment. But maybe it’s time he stopped fighting it. 

:: 007 Family Circle too? :: 

Q takes in a deep breath. _Now there’s a thought._ How would James feel about being part of their weird little family? Maybe too fast too soon. He’d run for the hills. Or run off with the next woman he meets on his upcoming mission. 

“Maybe we keep this between us for now? We don’t want to scare James away just yet.” 

Herbie seems to want to say something, but just then, R appears around the corner of the firing range with crossed arms, “Q?! _A WORD_ please.”

She’d been waylaid by one of the minions wanting her input on a project, otherwise, she would have been there sooner. Startled, Q whips around to face her. 

“Why is Herbie tracking my menstrual cycle?” she demands without preamble.

“Uh..umm…” caught out before he can formulate an explanation, Q fumbles for words that might diffuse the situation. 

:: Herbie track _all_ Q-Branch female reproductive cycle ::

The AI unhelpfully confesses, as if normalising it might placate her. It’s not like Herbie intentionally targeted _just_ her. 

“Q!” Jenny yells at him, indignant. As if he had any control over what piques the AI’s curiosity! 

“Herbie!” Q yells at his AI in turn. 

The little bot cowers behind Q’s mug. Q wishes he could do the same. 

:: Temperament influenced by hormonal changes. Herbie improve friends and avoid negative response ::

The bot rushes out an explanation. 

The humans take in the AI’s reasons. Understanding dawns and Jenny’s anger dissipates. “Herbie… I’m sorry I got mad at you. It was a misunderstanding,” She crosses over to the foldout desk and kneels down to eye level with the bot. 

“I know you’re trying to improve everyone’s wellbeing and you want everyone to like you. I appreciate that. But some things you just can’t force, alright?” 

:: Data indicates— :: The text is suddenly wiped before Jenny can finish reading it. Q pretends he wasn’t just frantically signalling to Herbie to be _quiet_ behind Jenny’s back. 

“Yes?” Jenny encourages the AI. 

Another text replaces it :: Herbie reassess data :: 

The AI might be learning to be human faster that Q thought. 

“Alright. You do that. But can I ask that you bring up your findings with me first before you try to act on them?”

:: Agreed :: Herbie emerges fully from hiding. Jenny strokes it down the back with a little finger. A little bit more ink rubs off. 

\---Next Chapter ---


	3. Stickers

:: Assistance required ::

:: Impaired mobility ::

Herbie rolls over and over frantically on Jamila’s desk. She is away in the depths of the lower labs in the middle of an experiment and has left her things unattended. 

“Herbie what are you doing?” Q finds his wayward robot in a sorry state at his assistant’s table. Herbie is covered in small round colourful stickers. The edges of the poorly adhered bits of paper are not just sticking to Herbie, but starting to adhere to everything on her desk and to each other - binding poor Herbie into an awkward ball it can’t get out of. A spider caught in its own web of stickers. 

“How have you managed to do this??” those fiddly bits of stickers are so hard to peel from their backing. Jamila uses them for QA work - to point out to the detailing team areas where the bodywork needs further attention.

Q peels each piece of sticker carefully from Herbie’s legs to free the little robot. 

:: Vinyl wrap - https://youtu.be/tf2z0TkuQc ::

“Oh, so that’s what you’re attempting. How… clever,” Q doesn’t know why he should be disconcerted by Herbie trawling YouTube for ideas - it’s an AI not a child. Still, maybe he should consider programming some restriction protocols into Herbie’s access to the service. 

He’s freed the bot of most of the offending stickers now, but Herbie is still looking like a crusted over hermit crab. “Herbie, are you sure your sensors are functioning well? Surely this must be too many layers.”

Few seconds then,

:: Valid point ::

:: Low profile solution advisable? ::

“Yes. I think that would be best,” Q smiles indulgently at it. “And you might want to leave Jamila an apology for making a mess of her things. It’s social conventions,” Herbie takes social conventions rather seriously. To the AI’s logic, these protocols help generate and predict outcomes. Using polite language will majority of the time ensure a positive response - and Herbie is all about positive responses at the moment. Because it guarantees that the humans around it will continue to do interesting things and let Herbie observe. 

Herbie hunkers down in Q’s palm, it has learnt to ‘emote’ combining body language with sentiment when expressing itself because it generates far more profound responses. And because Herbie does not have facial expressions, it has copied a lot of the body language from animals making it doubly endearing. 

:: Apology made :: It’s not everyday you get a text from and AI saying sorry. Never a dull moment working in Q-branch. 

“Are you going to clean this up? Put everything back to where they were before this?” Q suggests. The task should occupy Herbie for half an hour at least. 

:: But disorder was subject of apology. If Herbie restore, apology redundant :: 

Alright, that’s a good one. Can’t fault its linear logic there. 

“In the human social world, one can’t commit a trespass and then only rely on verbal apologies. Depending on the situation, redress is usually necessary to show contriteness or genuine regret. And the extent of redress usually befits the severity of the trespass. Otherwise a verbal apology is open to abuse.”

:: Hypothetical: If Jamila unaware of trespass; Herbie rectify - apology still required? ::

 _Oh the sneaky little bugger_ … “Yes Herbie. Ideally, you wouldn’t commit a trespass in the first place. It is a breach of someone else’s rights. Plus if you’re caught later, it erodes the trust the person had in you…,” Q has a sneaking suspicion, he’s getting very good at reading the motivation behind the AI’s line of questioning, “Why the hypothetical?” 

Herbie flattens even further :: Herbie rectify Nish table after ::

Q turns around to look at Nish’s desk. It’s in similar disarray. The pen holder is knocked over. the mouse is flipped upside down, paperclips are all over the floor and peeled post-it notes stuck everywhere. How is a 40g spy robot capable of creating such a mess? Especially when its original programming was to leave as little trace as possible. 

“Don’t forget to apologise to Nish too,” Q lets the little robot back down on the desk and leaves it to clean up the mess it created. 

————————

Three weeks later, Herbie skitters around the lab sporting a decorative wraparound skin on its carapace. It fits perfectly with holes meticulously cut out by Josh to fit around the robots’ sensors and gaps. Herbie is chuffed to bits - showing off to anyone who would give it attention. 

It was R that clued Herbie in onto them. She’d given the robot a sheet of stickers from a pack of souvenirs that she had Marcus (008) buy for her niece after his latest mission - his attempt at an apology. 

Once Herbie found out about pre-printed stickers, that was it. The AI spent hours looking for stickers and vinyl wraps on every online store it could find. Literally thousands of them - Q knows, he checked the browser history. 

Then one afternoon, while Q is in the middle of a meeting with the other Heads of Department, he gets a series of texts. 

:: Q ::

:: Herbie require funds ::

:: Preferred - credit card ::

 _Christ, what now?_ :: Why? :: He texts back only mildly fazed. He’s gotten used to the random demands and knows to prod further. 

  
:: Or Paypal ::

:: Or Bitcoin ::

:: Or Amazon Gift Card ::

Some days, it takes all his strength not to get mad at his creation. He suspects this is what parents of young children feel. Oh don’t misunderstand, he’s terribly fond of his AI, especially now that it’s somewhat sentient (academically they’re still not sure if it’s a mimic or true sentience) - but sometimes he wished he’d added a ‘hibernate’ command to it. Especially since his ‘child’ does not require sleep or downtime and only agrees to stick to a sleep schedule because Q needs it. 

“Shall we move on to the updates from Q-Branch?” 

*Ahem* “Yes. Just to recap - we have three key projects this quarter. The first is the…”

:: Or Apple Pay ::

“…and is 80% complete and expected to be on budget, give or take…” 

:: Retrieved credit card number - permission to use ::

“…the program to upgrade all the Double-0 section vehicles is complete….”

:: Require password ::

:: Or biometric input ::

whilst in the middle of his update, Q is forced to remove his watch under the table to stop the distracting texts and toss it under his chair. He was hoping no one would notice the constant notifications. No such luck. 

“Would the Quartermaster prefer to answer his phone?” Being the youngest HOD, he still regularly picked on for his less than formal management ethos. Most of the time it was friendly ribbing, like Jeremy from Accounts.

“It might be important,” or Lynette from Procurement.

Or not so friendly, “Could be _James_ ,” says Timothy Hayden, the mean-spirited outgoing IT HOD. That gets him mostly confused looks. Few people know about his relationship or what constitutes one with Agent 007. Hayden is likely taking a stab in the dark - 007’s outrageous flirting over the comms makes him the obvious candidate. 

“Perhaps you shouldn’t encourage the operatives to call you directly - sends the wrong message,” he continues.

If there is one person Q absolutely does not want knowing about Herbie’s sentience - its Hayden. The man, Q’s sure, would campaign to have that partition of the Shadow Network deleted. The fact that the Hayden has partial operational control over the Shadow Network by the virtue of being IT HOD already has him feeling somewhat violated; if Hayden knew how much Herbie meant to him it would almost certainly be the end of the experiment. 

Mallory knows, of course - but Q might have underreported the extent of Herbie’s intelligence. Still using language like ‘neural mimicry’ and ‘analogous’ and a heaping of other jargon to wiggle out of admitting that Herbie is now an entity with its own free will. And Mallory had agreed to let the experiment run as long as Herbie can be controlled - a guarantee Q can’t actually make, but M doesn’t need to know that. 

“Not all of us have such a cavalier attitude towards the needs of the men and women defending our country,” Q fires back. 

“Do you cater to all their needs Quartermaster? Or are you in any way selective?” the implication is clear. The room goes uncomfortably hush.

Tanner comes to the rescue, “Ladies and gentleman, shall we move on?”

——-

Q sighs as he lowers himself into his chair with his steaming fresh cup of Earl Grey. Confrontations with Timothy Hayden always sucks the energy out of him. It’s one thing to bicker with chronically stubborn agents, yet knowing you’ve got their backs and they’ve got yours, no matter how mad they make him - and another to be in a drawn-out pissing contest with a thin-skinned, entitled prick determined to undermine him at every chance. 

Herbie pops up over the desk edge, hauling itself onto the tabletop. It skitters happily over to Q, to rest two front legs over the back of Q’s hand. 

:: Found stickers. Size and shape approximation - suitable :: Herbie taps the back of his hand excitedly. 

So this was what it was all about. As frustrated as he is with Hayden’s constant attempts to put him down, he can’t stay mad at Herbie for inadvertently presenting the man with the opportunity this afternoon. 

He strokes Herbie along its smooth metallic shell. The little robot pushes up against his touch, like a cat enjoying a good petting. Q continues to pet it until it rises up almost vertically on all, save two of its legs - then losing balance and tumbling over like a scarab beetle onto its back. Herbie wiggles its legs in the air comically for a bit, making Q laugh, before righting itself. 

:: Conditions suboptimal? ::

:: Q experience bug? ::

It strikes Q then, the AI knew he wasn’t in the best of moods and was attempting to make him feel better by making him laugh. How do you stay mad at that?

Herbie tugs lightly at Q‘s hand, urging him to turn up his palm then crawls into his hand and plops down, retracting all of its legs to tuck them under its body. Now it really looks like a metallic AirPod case. 

Q brings his other hand to cup over the bot, creating a cocoon around it. Herbie shifts a little, poking its optical sensors between the gap in its clamshell cocoon and buzzes with contentment. Herbie has now an array of vibrational patterns it uses to signal various ‘emotions’ - Q suspects it is mimicking the cat’s meows and purrs in frequency. It’s surprisingly effective as a means of communication.

They play peekaboo for a bit. Herbie shuttering and unshuttering its cluster of asymmetrical sensor arrays in an attempt to mimic covering its eyes and Q opening and closing the clamshell of his hands. Herbie never fails to buzz in delight each time. 

Two million pounds; five years into development and a supercomputer server farm hidden at an undisclosed location - this is still one of the AI’s favourite games to play with people and animals. The silly simplicity of it is disarming and encourages participation; the aim isn’t to determine a winner or a loser - its just fun. 

Two minutes of this and Q’s blood pressure is back to normal. The aftertaste of Hayden’s remarks washed away. Q sets Herbie back down on the table - time for a talk. He starts gently, “Herbie, what did I say about texting while I’m in a meeting?” 

The little bot shifts its weight side to side. 

:: Non-essential communication to be kept at minimum :: 

“Yes, did you forget this afternoon?,” preposterous of course, ”Or did you choose to ignore our agreement?”

Herbie’s front legs rub against each other in an apprehensive motion. 

:: Q has negative reaction to Herbie text? ::

Not fair - if only the bot wasn’t so cute. “No Herbie, it was just… inconvenient. Not to mention, it risks having people who aren’t supposed to know, finding out about you.” 

The bot comes forward and strokes Q along his thumb. 

:: Herbie experienced impulse control lapse ::

:: Apology ::

If he could squeeze the tiny bot in a tight hug without damaging it, Q would. As it were, he had to settle for scooping it up for a nose bop. Herbie rubs up against the tip of his nose in response - returning the affectionate gesture. 

After Q puts Herbie back down on the desk, he drums his hands on the desk lightly and asks, “Now what was it that you needed funds for?”

Herbie pipes up enthusiastically and sends a link to Q’s chat program on his laptop. Q clicks it and a website loads. Skins. Custom skins - the kinds you personalise electronics with. 

Actually it isn’t a bad idea. There are some stock options with digital camo prints, which gives Q a sudden flash of inspiration. They could create custom skins to help the field Herbies blend in better with their environment. Instead of having to machine a new casing each time. This might actually be a more cost-effective and flexible solution. 

Herbie is oblivious however, gravitating towards the move colourful options. Its tastes appear to be evolving - getting more sophisticated. It is no longer favouring the literal butterfly looking ones, but is preferring the abstract combinations of patterns and colours now.

Someone comes by while their attention is focused on browsing the comprehensive selection of available prints. The person and pulls up a spare chair, squeaky wheels announcing their arrival and sidles up next to them in one smooth roll of the chair. 

“What are you guys up to?” Bond asks lightly.

“Perusing the selection of available stickers for Herbie,” Q answers without looking away. He can feel the man’s radiating warmth next to him.

“Hmm… is that why I received a torrent of texts asking for my credit card number or access to various other digital payment methods while I was in the middle of running 005’s extraction Ops?” Bond directs the question at the metallic object hiding under Q’s palm. 

:: Herbie apology ::

“Did you text anyone else for their credit card?” Q prods his AI with his now fully developed ‘mom’ voice - casual with a hint of scepticism and warning. 

:: No. Family Circle text :: Herbie confirms, but doesn’t explicitly point out that the circle includes 007. Despite Q’s suggestion, the AI had stubbornly included the man anyway. Maybe because aside from Q, Bond is the next human that spends the most time with it. Q hopes Bond doesn’t realise the slip. 

Bond smiles and reaches out to poke at Herbie and then pet it absently. He’s quite ready to admit how thrilled he is knowing that Herbie’s default is to reach out to him above anyone else save its creator. 

His attention shifts to the Quartermaster. He reaches up with his other hand to pet the back of Q’s head, “Heard from Eve that Hayden is giving you trouble again?” 

The nice thing about Bond taking more higher-level strategic roles is that he’s in London more often now. The bad thing is, he’s in HQ more and getting increasingly curious about the office politics that inevitably afflicts institutions that employ brilliant and ambitious people. It is in his nature to be curious about the things that go on around him - situational awareness is what kept him alive for so long in the field. 

But in the civilian world, that instinct has no outlet and it’s running in overdrive. Q caught him reading the personnel files on all his Q-Branch engineers and profiling them - thankfully they all passed his unofficial vetting. The same can’t be said for some of the others in the building. 

Davies from Accounts Payables was on his shit list - until Bond got him arrested, turns out the man was embezzling from funds earmarked for the upkeep of safehouses in the Middle East which could have had potentially serious consequences. 

That incident sealed his reputation as M’s bulldog. Flirtatious and charming, but a bulldog nevertheless. The less kind might have compared the craggy-faced agent to the wrinkles on the animal. A bulldog in a tuxedo. Bond didn’t care - it just meant that they feared him enough not to involve him in their petty political games. 

Q turns to him, “He’s retiring at the end of the month, he can say whatever he wants. It won’t matter in a few weeks.”

“Does that mean you’ll be miserable till then?” concern colours his voice. 

“Hardly. However I can't say that I’m not waiting for the day I can remove his credentials from my system,” Q growls in frustration. The effect is less intimidating than expected - more a hissy cat than a lion. Bond doesn’t tell him that. He just continues to scratch the back of the boffin’s scalp in what he hopes is a calming gesture. 

Q continues on his rant, “He’s been poking around the Shadow Network a lot lately. When Mark and I started this project, he dismissed it as science fiction nonsense and wanted to have nothing to do with it. I took the budget for it out of Q-Branch instead. 

Now that it works, he’s going around touting as if he sponsored the whole thing. Anyway, doesn’t matter - I just hate knowing he has root level access. 

I’ve programmed the system to alert me when Hayden is inside, and to run any changes by me before executing. He’d blow his top off he knew he didn’t have master access,” Q pauses in his diatribe and sighs,”Am I being paranoid?”

Safe in the confines of Q-Branch, Bond pulls him close for a quick comforting nuzzle around the temples. “No. If your gut instinct is telling you something, it never hurts to be careful. Rather he blows his top than have the system be compromised. He’s an odd fella - I’ll give you that. 

:: Checkout ready :: Herbie buzzes them cheerily.

There is two hundred pounds worth of stickers in the cart. Q tries not to groan - as comfortable as his government salary is, he’s still not minted. He’ll need to add economics & finance to Herbie’s study program. 

“Herbie, that’s at least 20% of my expendable income for the week. Considering the cost of food for myself and the cats, do you think that’s wise?” 

Herbie regards Q perplexingly, two front legs rubbing against each other - the concept does not fully compute register.

“Did it learn that from you? 

“Learn what?”

“That nervous, self-comforting hand wringing,” Bond points out. 

Q glares at him. Bond chuckles. 

:: Unknown? ::

“Never mind, I’ll explain later. Look, how about you curate your selection down to $50 and we’ll confirm the purchase.”

:: Herbie require all of them :: Q can hear the petulant whine even in text.

“No, you don’t require all of them. You require electricity and maintenance. Stickers are an optional extra,” Q stands his ground. 

:: Please :: Someone taught Herbie ‘please’ was a magic word to get whatever it wants, and the bot has been using it every chance it gets. 

“Herbie...” Q crosses his arms. 

The AI is silent, Q can all but hear the code running in the background. 7 seconds later, it presents its counter offer. 

:: Alternative solution: Q purchase $50 ::

:: 007 purchase $150 ::

:: Please? ::

:: With cherry on top <cherry emoji> :: 

_The cheeky little scamp!_ Nish must have taught it that line. 

Q feels Bond shift behind him. Next thing he knows, Herbie is presented with a credit card which it comically struggles to hold on to since the robot lacks opposable digits. Logically asking for thumbs would have served the bot better, but no - it wants stickers. 

Bond props the card up on the bottom of the laptop screen. “You can put it all on me, consider it a gift.”

Herbie makes a giddy happy tippy-tap and proceeds to checkout its ludicrously expensive cart of stickers. 

“James, it’s an AI. It will save everything!” Q cautions him. 

Bond just smiles and shrugs. To him, it is still money better spent than throwing $200 on booze at a bar with Alec on a night out.

“Don’t come crying to me when Herbie decides to buy a private jet because it thinks it’s a necessity,” Q warns him. 

:: One-Time-Pin required ::

Bond peeks at his phone and reaches around Q to type in his pin, “Why would Herbie need a private jet?” 

“Oh I don’t know, maybe it’ll want to know how it feels to fly.”

“Aren’t you building a fold-wing plane? I saw Josh working on the AutoCAD drawings.” Bond wouldn’t mind taking it for a spin himself, once the thing is ready. 

“Shhh… “ Q shushes him through gritted teeth and flashing eyes. Herbie is going to get overly excited by the prospect of flying and he’ll have to spend the evening fielding questions about the principles of flight. 

:: Purchase complete. Much gratitude 007 :: Herbie attempts to return the card back to him, but only succeeds in flicking the plastic clumsily in his direction. The card catches Q on the chin. He doesn’t even flinch.

Then not missing the bit in their conversation :: Herbie FLY? Like butterfly?::

Q groans softly and lets his head drop back, it bounces against Bond’s hard shoulder. He can feel the vibration of Bond’s rumbling chuckle through the contact. 

“Not quite yet. You’ll have to learn the firmware and software before you’re allowed to fly. Or you won’t make a good autopilot.” 

:: Herbie good driver :: the AI protests.

“Flying is not as easy as driving. You’ve got a third dimension to deal with. And no, it’s not like the submarine - you won’t have bouncy to help you along.” 

:: Herbie learn :: The little robot toddles off to the charging pad built into Q’s desk lamp. It’s Herbie’s default resting position - for when the AI wants to channel all auxiliary processing power to its learning algorithms, it temporarily hibernates the physical connection to the world. It will take Herbie more than just a few hours to learn to fly, but it does give Q a couple hours of peace. 

With Herbie gone to sleep, the two humans are left alone with each other. 

Bond turns to him, “So… Family Circle?”. Is it too much to ask that the spy misses a thing or two once in a while? 

Q locks eyes with him cautiously. “It’s just a way that Herbie classifies the humans around it. You know… Family, friends, acquaintances and whatnot. It gives it a set of criteria to filter and direct the questions it wants to ask or things it wants to tell to the right people.”

“Does it also help it determine who it should trust and who is safe?” 

“Yes I suppose.”

“That is a considerable responsibility,” Bond points out seriously. 

“Ah…,“ Q thinks he knows where this is going. He’s not going to lie to himself, he’s disappointed - but he’d expected this. 

“James, you don’t have to read too much into it. It just helps the algorithms make sense of the world. I’m not sure if it really even understands the concept of family. It’s probably just borrowing the most frequently used terminology from the internet,” Q tries to make light of it. He can see the man thinking. The muscles in his jaw flexing.

It’s one thing to spoil a budding AI with gifts, but to actually invest all of your personal time into an experiment that has no foreseeable end date is another thing altogether. Q can see how that prospect might be terrifyingly impinging on the man’s lifestyle. 

They’ve never spoken about it. This thing between them. For close to three months now, they’ve spent all available weekends together. Bond practically lives with him on the weekends and even some weekdays - but neither has said anything about what it means. There is no shortage of chemistry, but that didn’t mean it had any long term future. An open-ended sleepover? A placeholder in lieu of something better? Something to fill the time?

“You could be the favourite uncle who buys Herbie awesome gifts…,” Q suggests softly, giving the man a way to back out gracefully despite the tightness in his chest. That should give Bond room to come and go and still be technically ‘family’. He’s cognizant that they would need to preserve a working relationship even if the private one fizzles out. 

Bond scowls, the semi-permanent furrows between his brows deepening. His upper lip draws into a tighter line. 

Q can’t think of another alternative that might please him. “James… would you prefer I explain to Herbie—“

“—Is there a reason why I can’t be more than an ‘uncle’?” He says _uncle_ like it was something distasteful. 

Bond’s question isn’t in the direction he was thinking so it takes Q moment to understand, “ _More_ than an uncle?” Q repeats carefully.

Bond raises his eyebrows, blue eyes earnest. Q stares back, mouth slowly going slack. 

The older man shifts closer, resting a hand next to Q’s wrist. There is a splotch of neon pink ink on Q’s shirt cuff poking out of his jumper, and Bond traces it with his finger. It must be from Herbie playing with the highlighters again. 

“You’re more than welcome to. I… wasn’t sure if that was what you wanted.”

The finger around Q’s cuff creeps towards his fingers. The dry calloused hands of the agent’s covers his own - hands that have caused incalculable pain and taken over a dozen lives in the last decade. Yet capable of such gentleness when playing with Herbie or the cats or with Q’s hair. 

He wants what James is offering _so badly_ \- but, “James is not that I doubt your commitment, but are you sure it’s what you want? You’ve seen how much of a handful Herbie can be. Herbie is like having a prodigy and child with disabilities in one. It knows so much yet understands so little. And I don’t even know how much better or worse it will get. There are no parenting guidelines for sentient AI. Herbie and I are making it up as we go. I can’t predict what AI will do if you decide you want out - if it will see it as a rejection. And it’s so fond of you—“

“—Q. Breathe,” Bond squeezes his hand, interrupting him. 

Q obeys. He’s gone off on a worried ramble and not making a very attractive case for Bond to keep the offer on the table. 

“I’m IN.” Bond says firmly. The tone leaves no room for Q’s anxious disclaimers. 

“I… OK,” Q agrees before he can sabotage it. He swallows whatever doubts he has. If James says he’s IN - he’ll just have to take his word for it. 

Bond smiles, going back to petting Q on the back of the head. 

“Now that that’s settled… mind making me a key to your place?”

“Tired of breaking in?”

“What are you talking about? Granted I’ve tried, but I’ve never managed it. That security system of your is well more advanced than I’m comfortable with.”

“Then how have you managed to get in all this while?” Q frowns at him perplexed. 

Bond grins like the cat that got the cream, “I text Herbie.”

\---FIN---


End file.
